Orleans
Gradually, the road grew smoother.
Chief, sightless in the rear of the van, focused on his other senses. How the sounds changed as they moved from countryside to town. Trying to identify the noises took his mind away from his immediate surroundings. It would have been easy for fear to worm its way into his brain. After all, it was only a short while since he and Casino had spent time incarcerated in the back of a truck enroute to a cell in a Gloucestershire Abbey.
"Erebus? The god of darkness?" Actor was entertained by the code name someone had allocated to the Scot.
"Rather distinguished don't you think?" Dalgliesh replied, ditching his normal faint Scottish accent for a parody of a high-class English public-school gentlemen. He reverted to his normal speech. "I'm told SOE have great fun selecting names for their agents."
Did he know, thought Actor, that TAR had played the same game with him? Lothario? No, that one he would let disappear into the depths of time. Habicht, Goshawk. That one he would keep.
"What do your men call you? Behind your back, that is?"
Dalgliesh huffed in amusement. "What men? I work alone, Borelli."
"You trained people in Canada."
"And I didn't listen to what they said behind my back. It mostly wouldn't be repeatable if I had heard, given what I asked them to do."
Actor let the subject drop. Like Chief he'd detected the increasing sounds of civilisation. Their destination was fast approaching.
The motion changed abruptly as the road surface changed from tarmac to cobbles. There was a hollowness to the sound too.
"Bridge. Reck'n it's old."
Dalgliesh concentrated. The Navajo was right.
Minutes later, the van stopped, briefly. There was the sound of creaking and scraping then they moved forward a short way before the process was repeated. Finally, the rear doors were flung open.
It was still dark outside, but less dark than it had been inside the vehicle. The faint glimmer of a lantern from a window cast a shadow over what looked like bushes and grass.
"Nous sommes là. Allons-y."
The driver was already heading across the grass, heading for the light.
Behind him, the men climbed down slowly, dragging their kit behind them. Apart from a small area where the vehicle was parked, they had grass under their feet. Sounds from the city were muffled.
Moments later, the driver was back, trailing behind him a small, gnarled man carrying another, somewhat brighter lantern, which he handed to Goniff, who happened to be standing closest. "Aidez-moi avec les portes," he said, rather tersely, as he shuffled towards the gates.
"Chief, help him with the doors," instructed Dalgliesh, helpfully.
"I know what he said," the Navajo responded shortly.
GGG
The courtyard seemed strangely quiet once the van had gone.
"Suivez-moi." Taking the lantern from Goniff, the little man led them across the grass towards a door in the building on the opposite side of the courtyard. Behind it was a medium sized room containing 8 narrow beds with iron bed frames, thin mattresses and flat pillows. There were no sheets, just a single grey blanket folded at the foot of each bed. A curtain covered a small alcove containing a hole in the floor and a large stone sink.
"C'était l'Hospital." The man clearly felt it was the only explanation necessary.
"Parlez-vous Anglais?"
Dalgliesh's accent isn't too bad, thought Actor. He wouldn't pass for French, but it might be adequate if he was speaking to a German.
"A leetle," the man replied hesitantly.
"Where are we?"
"L'Abbey de St Catherina, Orleans," the man replied. "Ce n'est plus utilisé. Les sœurs... the sisters... elles sont partis... they left when... Les Allemands, the Germans, arrived. They are in Switzerland. I am left to tend the garden." He paused. "We were not expecting... visitors."
"No, neither were we," replied Dalgliesh.
The gardener shook his head in confusion, but the man who'd spoken didn't explain further. The gardener gave up on his attempt at l'Anglais. "Restez ici pour l'instant. Quelqu'un viendra vous chercher plus tard." He backed away before he could be asked any more questions and headed back towards his quarters to resume his interrupted sleep, taking the lantern with him.
"Whadda he say?" The safecracker went to the doorway and watched the retreating lantern.
"We're to stay put until someone comes for us," Actor paraphrased.
"That all. All of them froggy words makes my head ache," Goniff threw himself down onto one of the cots and lay back.
Casino closed the door, shutting out the outside world and felt his way to the table.
A solitary oil lamp sat on a small table by the entrance. The safecracker dug into his trouser pocket and withdrew a small box of matches. Striking one, he was able to find the lamp and light it before burning his fingers too badly. It shed a small amount of yellow light but did little to dispel the gloom.
"What now?" He sank down onto the nearest bed. "Looks like Johns didn't bother to tell the Resistance we were coming."
"Or this isn't where we were meant to be taken," offered Actor, looking carefully at Dalgliesh. He was convinced the Scotsman was holding something back but if he was, he was holding his cards close to his chest.
Dalgliesh ignored the look. "Actor's right. We can't suppose we're in friendly hands, but there isn't much we can do until daylight. Get some rest while you can. Chief, you take first shift. I'll relieve you in an hour or so."
GGG
Actor slept for maybe an hour before waking. He listened briefly but couldn't detect anything that would have caused him to wake. In the faint dawn light shining through a cobwebbed, lead-paned window, he could see that Chief's bed was unoccupied, so the Indian must still be on guard. Knowing he wouldn't sleep again, the conman climbed carefully out of bed and made for the outer door.
Chief had sat quietly, waiting for the sun to raise its head. It hadn't been unpleasant. Even though it wasn't yet April, this much further south there was a little more warmth than there would have been back at the Mansion. The air was cleaner too and held the scent of some early herbs or flowers.
The sound of a gate opening brought the Navajo to full alert. He moved back slightly into the shadow of the doorway, pressing himself against the stonework.
A middle-aged man on a bicycle, wearing the uniform of a French Gendarme, pushed his way through the wicket gate in the middle of the main entrance, kicked it shut behind him and propped the machine against the nearby wall. Something about him prickled the hairs on the back of Chief's neck. He watched silently as the man strode confidently across the garden towards the caretaker's door and rapped sharply on the timber.
It took a minute or two, and a second knock, before the door was finally opened. The visitor pushed the door fully open and elbowed his way inside. From the brief glimpse Chief got of the gardener's face the new arrival was neither expected nor appreciated.
Chief jumped as a light hand touched his shoulder. For a big man, the conman could move quietly when he chose.
"Fauchelevant has a visitor," Actor said softly.
"What elephant?"
"The convent gardener in Hugo's Les Misérables," Actor explained quietly, seeing the blank expression on Chief's face. "It was a book, written in France many years ago." He stopped as the sound of raised voices drifted through the morning air.
"You know what they're sayin'?" Chief could hear most of what was being said, but the accents were too different and the words too quick for him to pick up the meaning. They needed to get closer.
Crouching down and using the small amount of cover available, the two men crept closer. The conversation didn't last long, before the Gendarme emerged in something of a hurry, glancing to neither right nor left.
Actor and Chief crept back to the hospital doorway.
Dalgliesh was waiting for them, staring towards the gate which was just closing behind the bicycle. "Who was that?"
"He didn't say, but he wasn't happy. Seems he's another one that's only just heard of our arrival. More importantly, he told the caretaker to lock us into our room then radio London and tell them their cargo had been lost in transit."
To Actor's surprise, Dalgliesh smiled. "Good. We might have been fishing for minnows, but it looks like we've caught a trout. Chief, wake up the other two. Actor, come with me."
The two big men intercepted the gardener as he left his room, brandishing a heavy wrought iron key. It had taken him a while to find it... the door to l'hôpital was never locked.
Faced with the business end of Actor's automatic, he made no resistance and silently returned to his room. The conman wrinkled his nose as he stepped inside. It was dirty and smelt of body odour, unwashed clothes and bedding. Actor waved the man towards a rickety wooden chair and encouraged him to be seated.
The darkening of the doorway announced Chief, Casino and Goniff's arrival. Dalgliesh turned and spoke quietly to the Indian. "We need a car, something big enough for us all with enough fuel for about 50 miles."
"Uh huh," Chief acknowledged, looking over the Scot's shoulder with interest.
"Need any help?"
The Navajo shook his head. "Know what I'm doin'. Guess you want me to wait out on the road?"
It was Dalgliesh's turn to nod. "Sound the horn if you see something coming."
Chief smiled. "Sure will." He slipped away.
"Casino, there's a radio hidden here somewhere. See if you can find it."
"Why don't we ask him?" the Cockney enquired, stressing the 'him' and pointing at the man on the chair.
"Because I don't think he's that co-operative... are you?"
The 'gardener' simply smiled in response.
"I didn't think so," acknowledged Dalgliesh. "Goniff, tie him up. Improvise if you can't find any rope."
"Bingo." A scratched plank in the pine cladding had caught Casino's attention. Running his fingers gently down the wood, he found the small catch that held the panel in place. It came away easily, revealing a small alcove containing radio, battery and two small booklets.
"Careless, my friend." Dalgliesh's voice had softened. He held out his hand to Casino and took the booklets, glancing through them quickly. "I think these have just signed your death warrant." He handed the booklet back to the safecracker for safe keeping. "Get your things and head over to the gate. I'll be with you shortly."
He took out his own gun and carefully fitted the silencer. The man on the chair began to fight against his bonds, but for once the cockney had done his job well.
Actor looked at his new boss thoughtfully.
"You too Actor... and close the door behind you.
Actor did as he was asked. A moment later, he caught the faintest 'pop' sound, and he knew the job was done. Dalgliesh was right, he wasn't comfortable with killing in cold blood. None of them were, except possibly Chief. He kept walking.
It took the Scot a few extra minutes to join the other men over by the gates. Their body language had changed, he noticed. They seemed more alert, but also more wary of him. That was fine. He opened the wicket gate a fraction and peered out. The street was empty at first then, moments later, a large saloon car pulled into view and halted, some way away.
Cradling one of the Sten guns, he stepped carefully through the door, just far enough that the Indian could see him. He ducked back into cover just as soon as the car started to move.
Casino moved up to stand alongside his new CO. "You gonna let that Kraut-loving Frog policeman get away it?"
Dalgliesh looked inquisitively at the New Yorker. "Suggestions? He won't be alone this time."
"What about that tower? It overlooks the gate."
The naval man glanced at the building Casino was looking at. The man's right, he thought, as he began to consider the possibilities. Would there be guards? It seemed unlikely. Who would guard an empty bell tower? "Who's the best shot?"
"Chief." The safecracker's response was quick and definite.
The black saloon pulled alongside as Dalgliesh made his decision. "Casino, Actor, Goniff take the car and the kit. Get out of sight. When we go, we'll be leaving in a hurry. Chief, you're with me."
Casino smiled. The man was on his wavelength. He took over from Chief behind the wheel as the other two men threw the kit on board. Chief looked somewhat puzzled as he was handed a rifle with a scope and watched the car disappear from sight.
"Whadda we doing?"
"Just following up a little suggestion from our friend Casino. He thinks we could just help the war effort along a little."
GGG
The tower was empty, apart from a flock of pigeons that had made the bell platform their home. They had obviously been living there for a while, as the floor was thick with guano. Unsettled at first by their new companions, the birds left their perches, but within minutes resettled and resumed their comfortable cooing and rustling.
It was a further ten minutes before the grinding noise of an approaching truck could be heard. Dalgliesh glanced at Chief, who smiled back and settled the rifle on the parapet.
On board the truck there were six German soldiers. Five in infantry uniform, one in a Sergeant's uniform.
"Guess they don't know who they caught in their net," Chief commented, watching as the men disembarked from their transport. They seemed relaxed and unconcerned. The gendarme had ridden shotgun on the truck and was clearly giving the sergeant instructions.
"You want the sergeant too?" Chief was peering intently through the scope.
"Why not," Dalgliesh replied nonchalantly.
The first shot took the sergeant cleanly in the head. He pitched headfirst onto the cobbled pavement, his men shocked into inaction. The gendarme was quicker on the uptake. He looked up at the tower, and it was the last thing he ever saw as the next bullet struck him cleanly between the eyes.
Dalgliesh was already on the move, sprinting nimbly down the steep circular staircase, his automatic held ready for whatever might come. The soldiers were finally getting their act together, but they had been slow to realise where the gunfire had come from, and the parapet was now deserted apart from a few distressed pigeons.
The two men exited the tower on the side away from the convent and began to run, making it to safety before the soldiers got close.
The car was waiting with its engine ticking over. The two pulled up, breathing deeply. Both men locked glances.
"Done?" Chief asked, smiling.
"Done," responded Dalgliesh. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"Hey, wanna tell me where to go?" Casino had one hand on the wheel, his other on the gear shift and one boot hovering over the accelerator.
"Just drive. Sun's over there. Keep it over your left shoulder."
GGG
They stopped ten miles south of the city. Dalgliesh had hoped to find some high ground, but the terrain had stayed steadfastly flat and wet. In the end, he had to accept this was as good as it would get.
"Take five."
The men climbed out, stretched and walked away from the car. Dalgliesh would have liked to have done the same. Instead, he picked up the radio set Casino had retrieved and tried to sink himself into the codes he had memorised months ago. Piece by piece the bits of morse retrieved themselves from God knows where in his brain and lined up in front of him. He checked what was arrayed there and nodded briefly. He had all he needed to contact London.
The Wren who received the message was shocked. For weeks she, and a couple of her colleagues, had monitored this frequency with no input or response. Now, tonight, there it was. "Raven calling Golden Eagle. Raven calling Golden Eagle. Respond."
"Raven, pass message."
"Golden Eagle, nest of vipers unearthed and neutralised. Returning original itinerary. Out."
Dalgliesh took his hand off the transmitter, hoping that he'd sent the message he'd intended. It wasn't one of his best skills. He lifted his head, to find Actor standing silently at his side.
"Raven... appropriate, I think."
Dalgliesh smiled, tiredly. "Better than what my men called me."
"And what was that?"
"Am bas dubh, the black death," he translated. He looked at his watch. "We need to get moving."
"In a moment," replied Actor. "First, I think you owe us a few answers."
The Scot looked at the conman and held the Italian's gaze for a few seconds, before dropping his eyes. "You're right." Dalgliesh looked up again, but this time there was a challenge in the gaze. "Bear with me till we get to Courbouzon. If we get there in one piece, I'll tell you what I can."
Actor heard the careful words the other man had used and decided to accept them. Now was not the time to make a challenge. He followed his other train of thought.
"Courbouzon?"
"Village to the east of Blois. It was our original destination."
"And we can trust the people who will look after us there?" Actor raised an eyebrow as he asked the question.
Dalgliesh responded with a huff. "As much as we can trust anyone in this god-forsaken war." He looked at Actor with a more serious expression on his face. "It's the best we can hope for."